


Worth

by jasmasson



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-14
Updated: 2011-05-14
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmasson/pseuds/jasmasson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Lineage, Lex has Lionel issues and Clark is there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth

**Author's Note:**

> Written in November 2002, after Lineage (S02 E07).

The castle seemed empty as Clark approached it, and so he scanned quickly to make sure Lex was at home.

He was. Sitting alone in his office in front of the fire with Scotch in hand looking like a cliche of rich, young, thoughtful man. Something by Rodin if he'd been a 21st century guy.

Clark smiled, his strange, nervous energy settling slightly at the sight of Lex. The prickly feeling had been nagging at him ever since police and ambulance had let them go from Lucas's house, the one that Lucas would never see. Lex had dropped Clark off at the farm in his car, which Ms. Dunlevy had conveniently taken on her kidnapping spree, and he'd just seemed a little, well, strained.

Which was understandable he knew - it had been quite an eventful day - it was just. Well, Lex hadn't looked pleased to see him. And how lame was that? Stupid. He'd just saved his life, and so what if he didn't look at him the same way he had after the bridge, or Zero, or when Clark's father tried to kill him? A guy would be pretty glad to see someone who'd just saved his life, whether he showed it or not. Right? Lex was always pleased to see him, anyway. He'd probably just been tired.

He looked up at Lex, who was staring into the fire. Maybe he should just go. The unsettled feeling in him suggested he might regret going in. But Lex was alone; no Lionel, no staff, and he shouldn't be alone. Not after one of those lazy, small-town, Smallville days that culminated in attempted murder and head trauma.

Lex shouldn't be alone. Clark knew he wasn't one of those people who were meant to be alone, even if Lex believed that himself.

And so Clark went inside.

* * *

"Lex?"

Lex looked up slowly and seemed to take a little longer than normal to focus on Clark.

"Hey, Clark. My not-brother." Lex's smile was full of glass and the words were slow. "What are you doing here? It's late."

A momentary look of uncertainty crossed Lex's face and he raised his wrist to look at his watch. His movement was slow; giving the impression his wrist was very heavy.

"It's late." He repeated in confirmation.

"I, uh, just wanted to see how you were."

Clark felt uncomfortable, which was odd. Clark never felt uncomfortable with Lex. When he asked sometimes why Clark was there when he visited, Clark always had the impression Lex just genuinely wanted to know. A conversation opener. A lead-in. He was unused to the feeling he had now that "What are you doing here?" meant he _shouldn't_ be here.

Lex's shark smile widened. "Oh you know me. I can take a head wound before breakfast."

The scotch bottle on the table by Lex was nearly empty and next to it was a bottle of painkillers. The prescription date on it was for today, and Clark could easily tell it was missing rather more than two pills.

"Riiight." But Lex wasn't listening, his eyes drifting back to the fire.

A moment passed.

"Lex?"

"What?" Lex's head came up faster this time and he winced. His eyes seemed even more unfocused.

He blinked at Clark. "Are you still here?"

And. Yes. That kind of hurt. Oh, yeah, I just stopped by after _saving your life_ to see how you were. Sorry to _inconvenience_ you.

"You shouldn't be alone."

Lex snorted, but didn't reply.

"Where is everybody?"

"I gave the staff the night off. After all, who knows when one of them might try and kill me, and I think I've had my quota of fun for the day."

No answer to that.

And, man, Lex was drunk. Or high. Or both. Elegantly wasted, and wasn't that the truth? Body so loose and sprawled Clark thought he might ooze off the chair, slide down off, or maybe even through it, to land in a graceful, liquid pool on the floor.

His speech wasn't slurred though. Every word perfectly enunciated, but his voice was different. Not the almost lazy, soft, weighted drawl Clark was used to. Harder, clipped, brittle words, that sounded like maybe they were scraping his mouth as he spoke them.

Clark tried again.

"Where's your father?"

A laugh now. A hard sound.

"In Metropolis. He went to check if LuthorCorp had been effected by his TV appearance." He grinned at Clark as though inviting him to share the joke. "To see if the _stock_ had been damaged. The corporate image. The _shares_." He laughed again.

"At least that's what he _said_. I don't know though. How would I know? Maybe he's gone to see him. Maybe he's taken him some _toys_."

"What?" Clark was shocked slightly. By the words, by their bitterness. "Lex..."

"I had toys." Lex looked up sharply, as if this was something Clark needed to understand very clearly. "I had toys. Before. A whole roomful. Fucking _Hamleys_ should have had my toys."

"And then one day they were gone. Just gone. I wonder if that's what happened to them. Maybe he just gave them all to him?"

"Lex. Is," Clark paused. "Is Lucas alive?"

"Course he wouldn't want toys now. Teenager. Maybe he bought him a truck. He said he died when he was one." Lex's drunkenly shaky grasp of pronouns could cause some confusion, but Clark understood him. "But he was lying. I can _feel_ it. And it makes sense. Doesn't it make sense?"

Clark wasn't sure why it would, or even exactly what 'it' was.

"Maybe when she was dying, when he said he was on business, maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was out playing happy families. You know. Well, this family isn't working out too well, a freak and a corpse; maybe I'll try the other one. Maybe he took him to the _park_. Maybe when I was sitting in the hospital, praying for one _word_ from him, maybe he was singing him _lullabies_."

The glass shattered on the floor where it had slipped from Lex's fingers. They both jumped. Lex glared at it for a moment, and then muttered, "Fucking waste. I could at least have thrown it."

"Makes sense." He repeated softly, seeming to forget Clark was even in the room. "When he was on TV, I could hear him and I thought maybe, you know, he'd at least _try_. Because, you know. I knew he didn't love me. But. He needed me."

Lex nodded to himself. "I had that. He needed me. I was worth that much. And yeah, OK, I was just on his list of things he should have. Corporation, check. Penthouse, check. Ancestral home, check. Son and heir, check. Helicopter, check. But he _needed_ me. I could take that."

"But he doesn't. I'll bet he was relieved. Got rid of that worthless, screwed up freak, now I can roll out the _spare_."

"God, Lex..." Clark moved, urge to comfort too strong.

"Don't!" Lex shifted suddenly, an aborted attempt to get up. Get away. Clark stopped. Halted by the look that was almost fear on Lex's face. He took a step back and Lex settled, watching him cautiously until he sat down again.

"I wasn't... I never..." Lex swallowed like the words had a nasty taste. "I wasn't. I wasn't jealous of Julian, you know. I really wasn't."

Lex laughed, and looked up at Clark, almost sheepishly. "You won't believe me."

He laughed again and looked down at his hands, which were shaking.

"I believe you, Lex," Clark was glad for the opportunity to comfort, to reassure.

"Why?" Lex's smile was all sharp teeth and scarred, tender lip, "How can you believe that when I'm so... I'm so fucking _jealous_ of someone who might not even _exist_ , for fuck's sake, I'm eating my goddamned spleen. When I'm jealous of each and every one of his fucking whores because at least they had his attention. When I could have _killed_ Victoria for being allowed to even _touch_ him."

Lex drew in a calming breath, but his voice was still uneven.

"But I really wasn't jealous of Julian. Julian was the best thing to ever happen to us. Dad was so _happy_. He was smiling, all the time; sometimes he even smiled at me. And I figured if he could love Julian _that much_ , maybe there'd be some left for me, too."

"We used to have dinner together. Dad would come home for dinner, when before we'd only ever sat down together on Sundays, if that. We'd be in the dining room and Mom would feed Julian and he'd throw his food and laugh because, well, because he was a baby, and we'd all laugh too. When he threw his food and plates over the table and the floor and eat with his hands it would be funny, even though I couldn't remember a time I hadn't known which fork to use, and been careful not to drop it on the table in case it damaged the finish on the wood."

"We spent evenings together. We watched TV. We'd never even _had_ a TV, but we got it because Julian liked the colors."

Lex shivered slightly, looking in the fire, "That's what I remember most, I think. We had _color_ , and warmth. And when he died it was just grey. Grey and cold and empty and the hospital walls were grey too."

Lex's eyes were far away and a moment passed where Clark didn't breathe.

"It's the not knowing that's the worst." Lex said suddenly, looking almost frantically at Clark. "I can't know. How often did he see him? Did he tell him anything about me? Did he, did he _compare_ us? Did I disgust him even more when he came back from him?"

Lex was shaking now, and Clark could feel his fingers digging into the chair with the effort of not going to comfort him.

"Did he love him? Did he hug him? Oh, god, did he _kiss_ him? Just after my mother died I fell over and scraped my knee. It was nothing. It was _nothing_ , I've had worse _paper cuts_ , but the fall scared me and I was crying and my mother had just died and I only wanted a hug. And he yelled at me for being weak and emotional, and when that only made it worse he hit me and split my lip."

There was a moment of silence while Lex fought for breath and when he spoke again his voice was calmer.

"The new nanny, who would never even tell me her name, cleaned me up and I would have given anything if he would just have held my hand."

"I remember thinking then it might have been different if Julian was still alive. And all this time there was a brother out there. But he. He _kept_ it from me, so I didn't even get to have the scraps."

The last was whispered and was too much for Clark and he was on his way across the room to Lex's side before he realized he was moving. He did see the flash of fear and futile scramble from Lex to get his legs under him, but Lex was very drunk and Clark was strong and fast and _hurting_ for his friend, and he pulled him into a hug.

Lex was hot and sweaty and smelt of alcohol, pain and fear, but it felt so good to hold him, to absorb the struggles and the tremors, to comfort with vague nonsense words, that he ignored Lex's harsh words.

"Get off me. Let me _go_." Lex's struggles were genuine but utterly hopeless and diminished under the soothing words and so strong arms. "Let me _go_ , I'll, I'll..."

Break. And he did. Silent tears fell down his face, so he hid it in Clark's shoulder.

"Why?" He choked out. "All I ever wanted. I've tried so hard to be everything he told me I should, but it was never enough. Why doesn't he love me? What's _wrong_ with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you," Clark told him, fiercely, "It's not you, it's him."

But Lex stilled suddenly. Went rigid in his arms.

"Get off me." The words held venom this time, and the struggles were vicious. "Fuck you, Clark, get _off_ me."

Shocked, Clark let him go, restraining the urge to catch Lex as he stumbled drunkenly away, but somehow stayed on his feet.

He was swaying, though, and looked more drunk than he had sitting down, and his face was wet and flushed and had more emotion on it than Clark had ever seen, but he still had iron in his voice.

"Get out."

"What? Why?"

"Get _out_. Don't lie to me. I can't stand it when you _lie_ to me."

Clark was confused. "I'm not lying. Really, why, why would you think that?"

"Because if, if it's him. If it's really not me then why..." Lex's voice broke off and his face twisted for just a moment, but there were no more tears, only brave but battered pride. "Why didn't you want to be my brother?"

" _What_?"

"You brushed me off like it was nothing. Like it was _inconceivable_ someone like you could be related to me. You, you didn't even _want_ to be, and I thought. I thought. You might. Like me."

"I do!" Clark had no idea how to make this right. Lex, always so contained, so calm. "But, I swear, you can't be my brother. It's not. It's not that I didn't want you to be."

Clark broke off because that. Wasn't quite true. And Lex could always tell when he was lying, even if he didn't always call him on it. Because if you thought about your brother the way he thought about Lex, then you were in a relationship that made Lex and his father look positively healthy.

"Lex..."

Lex had looked away at Clark's words, a sneer forming.

Clark got up and approached him, holding his hands out in a classic harmless gesture when Lex stepped back.

"Lex, look at me."

He was careful, cautious, as Lex let him near, watching him defensively.

"I swear, I swear, you're my best friend." Lex's face twisted again and Clark moved closer, sensing an opening. "You can't be my brother, but, but it would have been OK if you had been, really, because, honestly, anything that would have brought us closer would have been great with me."

That was true. If it had been the case, though, he would have had to stop jerking off to images of pale skin and knife-edged smiles and ridiculously erotic bottles of water, but it would have been OK. Lex would have been _his_ , in a way, and that would have been more than Clark would ever have expected.

Lex was watching him. Hope, fuelled by alcohol, painkillers and deep unfulfilled needs, and suspicion, fuelled by years of the most messed up relationship Clark had ever even heard of, warring on his face.

"My best friend." Clark was close enough to touch him now, although he didn't, "And nothing's going to change that come brothers or" (lovers) "whatever. I promise."

Lex shuddered and nodded slowly, and then seemed to try out a smile for Clark. It was pretty good. Genuine, but wistful. "OK, Clark. Best friends it is."

So what was there to do but hug him? And Clark felt more than equal to that.

And really, he'd meant it to be innocent. Comforting. Really. But it felt so good so right, that Clark had to try out some brotherly, maybe friendly, mostly, OK not really, kisses on his forehead.

And it was only when Lex moved that they sort of slid down his face, over his eyes and his cheek, and Clark would swear blind that it had been Lex who had moved the final inch so that their lips met.

Lex's mouth was hot and sweet and wet and _fuck_ how could such a sharp tongue be so soft? Lex was licking, tasting Clark's lips, slick tongue slipping over soft flesh and when Clark gave into instinct and thrust his tongue into Lex's mouth, Lex sucked it enthusiastically and _fuck_ there was no air and gravity was suddenly a big issue and _shit_ was he floating? No. It just felt like it.

Suddenly Lex pulled away and, well, that was just wrong, wrong, really wrong. It seemed to Clark that surely they should have stayed like that for ever, maybe even gotten closer, somehow, he's sure they would have figured it out, but Lex was, maybe a whole foot away, dammit, fighting for breath and looking faintly, drunkenly, panicked.

"Clark..."

That seemed to be the limit of Lex's vocabulary, and Clark wasn't feeling particularly chatty himself, and so as long as they had that clearly understood then, he reached for Lex again.

"No, Clark, we can't."

"Why not?"

"Because. Because we can't."

"Don't you want me?" God, how humiliating. Where the hell was a good meteor-mutant when you need one to kill you right _now_. And yes, OK, it was immature to think it was all about him, when Lex had just been through emotional hell, but the thought really hurt.

But Lex's laugh was incredulous. "What? Fuck, you're not that innocent. Everyone knows I'm following you around like a puppy with my fucking tongue hanging out. My father, your family, your friends, hell your _mailman_ knows."

Clark was stunned.

Lex was laughing again, bitter this time, "You _are_ that innocent. God, that just shows how wrong this is. Please Clark, just go home."

Great. That was just typical. How very Lex. Whatever Lex was, he was never easy and right now Clark really, _really_ wanted him to be.

"Lex, it's not wrong, really. I want you..."

"Christ."

"...you want me. What's wrong?"

Lex sighed, "If this evening proves anything, it's just how fucked up I am. I don't even know where to _begin_ having an actual human relationship and you. You deserve something better. Someone better. Someone more worthy."

Lex looked away.

Clark stood in front of him and lifted his chin, forcing his head up, "I don't deserve better. Believe me. _Nobody_ could possibly deserve more than you."

And he was kissing him again. Wet, hot and needy and Lex was letting him and then kissing him back and surely there was nothing that could stop this?

Skin. Skin that had had a starring role his dreams and fantasies was only two thin layers of material away. Clark pushed up Lex's sweater, getting a slight brush of his hand against flat, warm, smooth belly which made them both shiver, but Lex pulled away.

"Leexxx." OK, yes he was whining, but come _on_ , so _close_.

"No, Clark, we can't. _No_!" The last when Clark made to grab him again.

Clark stared as him. He was leaning against the chair, flushed and panting and his lips were swollen, and wow, that was a really good look for him.

Lex seemed to be having similar thoughts about Clark from the way he was looking him hungrily up and down, and that was good, right? All on the same page.

"Clark, you're fifteen. You're innocent. And I'm... not."

"Oh, come on Lex, I'll be 16 in two months."

"Two months?" Lex was looking at him speculating, but still drunk and still horny and really Clark with super powers and no drugs or alcohol in his system should be able to win this.

Clark nodded.

"Two months. I could, I could wait two months."

"Really?" That was quite impressive. Clark wasn't sure he could wait two minutes, but Lex's eyes were sad and thoughtful and while it made him really quite shockingly beautiful, the sadness also took the edge off Clark's arousal.

"Yeah, we could, I don't know. Date. And I'd be sober, and we could see if it's what you really want and it's not just pity, or your hero complex."

"Lex! How can you think that?"

Lex shushed him. "Yes. We could be sure, see if I can do this, an actual _relationship_. You can spend time with Lana and Chloe and make certain this is what you want."

"Lex, I _am_ certain." But Lex's face was set. "OK. All right. We'll date." And actually, now he says it, it's got quite a nice ring to it. Then a horrible thought. "We can kiss, right?"

Lex laughed dryly, his eyes on Clark's lips. "Yes, I think that would be OK."

"And maybe get to second?" He asked, hopefully, hand caressing lightly against the softness of Lex's sweater.

Lex seemed to chuckle and shiver at the same time, but moved away. "Maybe. But not tonight. More to regret in the cold light of day."

"Jesus, Lex. Pessimistic much?" But he raised his hands in defeat at Lex's look. "OK, OK."

Lex smiled, a genuine smile and Clark felt his heart lift. "I'm fine now. Really. You should go."

Clark hesitated, wondering if maybe Lex just wanted him out so they didn't spoil this, that maybe Lex thought he could have this one night before Clark came in tomorrow and shuffled his feet like he did, and said maybe this wasn't a good idea. Well. That wasn't going to happen, and Clark had two months to prove it. He smiled.

"OK. But can I have a kiss first?"

"God," and Lex swayed towards him, still drunk and Clark caught him and held him and they kissed. Mouths hot and wet and needy and way better at expressing through touch than speech all they wanted to say.

"Right," Lex's voice was rough, "OK. Two months." He pushed Clark gently towards the door. "I can do it. Hell, I've had nearly a year of self-restraint and not touching and being good, I can take two months. I bought these flannel boxer shorts. I wore them to work once and had to cancel two meetings to jerk off in the toilets."

Lex suddenly looked horrified. "God, I'm drunk."

Clark laughed and held him again, "You're perfect."

"Clark," Lex's eyes were wounded again as he looked at him, not like before they touched, but nonetheless shadowed and scared. "This might not work. You're fifteen and horny and perfect and I'm drunk and hurting and fucked up and, and I would never have touched you if I wasn't so wasted. I would never have dared."

"Lex..."

"No, Clark, listen. I could hurt you. And, God, you could hurt me, and I'm so _bad_ at this."

"No, Lex, he ruined your relationship, not you, and I swear, we can make this work. You're stronger than he is, and so am I."

"Promise," Lex's eyes were frighteningly young despite the cynical, mocking smile.

And Clark had never been so sure of anything in his life.

"Promise."


End file.
